There's a certain Slant of light, Winter Afternoons-That oppresses, like the HeftOf Cathedral Tunes-Heavenly Hurt, it gives us-We can find no scar,But internal difference,Where the Meanings, are-None may teach-Any-'Tis the Seal Despair-An imperial afflictionSent us of the air-When it comes, the Landscape listens-Shadows-hold their breath-When it goes.'tis like the DistanceOn the look of Death-

-Emily Dickinson

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